On the occasion of World Sparrow Day, I’d like to share a poem I wrote last year in honour of my favourite bird. Sparrows have declined the world over,- that’s what all the newspaper reports say. However, I am fortunate they visit me every single day for breakfast, lunch and tea. They haven’t stopped during the pandemic. In fact, they’re family now. Every day, we put some rice for them to eat and water for them to drink. They come around chirping, hopping from branch to branch, in and out of the potted plants in the balcony.
Have you seen the delightful creatures
Cocking their head to the side
like a little child watching
their beady eyes blinking
before they flap their streaked wings and fly
into the sky?
Have you heard their voices
like children in the playground chattering
What a ruckus they cause tweeting
hopping and skipping
specks of brown amidst grass blades
and leaves and flowers of different shades?
Have you seen them pecking
at grains, a tiny morsel at a time
their crowns bent, their velvety throats heaving
like a pulse moving in and out
their grey breast
like the cheeks of Michelangelo’s cherubs
as they swallow their grub?
Have you seen them fly
free specks in the sky
and descend on their dainty feet
on the window seat
and did it not stir something within
that reached your eyes
and make you feel warm and fuzzy?
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